


The Ranger and the White Lady

by east_of_the_moon



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Impregnation, Outdoor Sex, Reunion Sex, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/east_of_the_moon/pseuds/east_of_the_moon
Summary: Faramir has been away from his wife for months and Éowyn has gotten restless.  Sparks fly when he meets her in the forest.





	The Ranger and the White Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first attempt at fanfiction, and I hope you like it!

Éowyn quickly looked up from the rabbit roasting in the fire. Nessa hadn’t actually made a sound, but the dog’s ears had pricked forward and she was staring fixedly at the forest at the edge of the firelight. Éowyn’s horse snuffed and moved uneasily at the opposite end of the clearing. The firelight still dazzled her eyes and she could see nothing, but she moved the half-cooked rabbit into the ashes at the edge of the fire and rose from the log she was seated on into a crouch.

Before she could draw her short sword, a voice spoke from the darkness.

“Peace, lady.”

Éowyn dropped back to the ground as a shadowy figure approached the firelight and resolved into the familiar form of her husband.

“I planned to be back before you returned, my lord. What brought you back so soon?” Éowyn began cooking the rabbit once again as Faramir sat and began to ruffle Nessa’s ears. Neither looked at the other.

“The negotiations with the dwarves went more smoothly than anticipated, and the king does not require my presence in Minas Anor again until the council convenes in the middle of Narbeleth.”

“What did your stewards think about you leaving Emyn Arnen again so soon? I’m sure Damrod had a lot to say, at least.”

Farmir chuckled. “Damrod worries too much. I leave Ithilien in capable hands when I am called away.”

Éowyn glanced sharply up at her husband, but his eyes were still fixed on the dog and his faint smile revealed nothing. She removed the rabbit from the fire and began removing bread and cheese from a saddlebag.

“How did you find me? I told no one where I was going.” Faramir finally lifted his head.

“Éowyn, did you forget that I am a Ranger of Ithilien? Just because I don’t go out with the border parties any longer doesn’t mean I have forgotten these woods.”

“Have you forgotten then the White Lady of Rohan? I did not go through fire and death to exchange the gilded cage of Edoras for a cage of flowers in Ithilien.” Her voice pierced Faramir to the heart as it was still and cold as it had been the day they met.

“I did not design Ithilien to be a cage for you, lady.” Faramir moved around the fire to kneel before Éowyn, who remained staring into the fire, pale and still, food forgotten before her. He took her hand.

“When duty calls me away, I miss you bitterly. I do not wish to see you sad. Ask anything of me and I will grant it.”

Éowyn finally dropped her eyes to his.

“I will not ask you to stay with me, and I will not ask to go with you. It would make fulfilling my duty to you and to our people a lighter burden if you would give me leave to go out with the patrols or to visit my brother when the mantle of the Lady of Emyn Arnen begins to stifle.”

A frown settled on Faramir’s brow.

“My lady, who forbade you doing these things? It was never my intention for you to remain in Emyn Arnen in my absence. I know my Éowyn could not sit and sew for long.”

Éowyn remained motionless for a few moments longer, head spinning. When Faramir had left, her heart had dropped like it had when Aragorn had left, like it had when her uncle had told her she must stay. When he had left, she thought Faramir the same. It seemed she was wrong.

She leaned forward and kissed him, pulling him by the tunic to deepen the kiss. He responded quickly, surging up to gather her in his arms. He had forgotten how sweet her mouth tasted on his, how soft her hair felt beneath his fingers, how her breath hitched as he lightly ran his fingers down from her cheek to her neck, and then down further to the laces of her bodice. 

“You won’t be needing this tonight, my lady.” Éowyn leaned back to help her husband loosen the ties of her bodice, panting slightly. It had been a long three months since she had last seen her husband, and as his fingers brushed the fabric over her breasts, heat washed over her that had nothing to do with the fire. Her tunic loosened, she wriggled the fabric over her shoulders and stood. The tunic slipped down, revealing a thin chemise beneath that peaked out over her nipples, already rising to his touch. She stepped out of the riding tunic and began walking to the other edge of the firelight, hands dropping to the ties of the thin breeches she was wearing.

“You should start working on those garments of yours, my prince. It would be a terrible pity if I were to get cold waiting for you.”

Faramir stood, fumbling with hasty fingers at the light leather armor he was wearing. He managed to strip down to his undershirt by the time he caught up to Éowyn, who was laying on a bedroll at the edge of the firelight in her chemise, laughing at his attempts to remove his breeches.

“Come here, love. How did you survive without me these three months?”   
Éowyn sat up and loosened his breeches. She began to slide them down but he dropped to his knees before her and took her hands.

“I’ve been waiting for three months, my lady. The boots will have to stay on this time.” Before she could protest, he covered her mouth with his, hands finding the hem of her chemise and gliding lightly up the skin of her belly. She gasped and rose into his touch, grasping his strong shoulders, as his fingers caressed her milky skin, relearning how she best liked to be touched. The fire began to die as the heat in her belly grew.

Faramir moved his left hand and kissed his way down her neck, mouth resuming the ministrations to her breast that his hand had left. His hand traced downward, reaching the hair between her legs, and then further down, into her wet heat. Éowyn’s breath caught and then came fast as he found her nub, tracing around it with his fingers. She laughed, throaty and breathless, and pushed his head up from her breast.

“Faramir, my love, don’t make me wait any longer.” She found the hem of his breeches pushed them down, freeing his stiff manhood. The head glistened in the firelight, and his hips twitched involuntarily as her fingers brushed against it.

“You did miss me, didn’t you?” She spread her thighs, guiding him to her entrance. Faramir pushed forward with a groan, feeling her passage wet and soft for him. Éowyn moaned with him, his length filling her up in places that had been empty for too long. He stopped as he felt his bollocks touching the soft skin of her womanhood, gazing down into her eyes, joined in the most intimate embrace. Soon, though she reached up and pulled his head down, soft breath on his ear.

“Show me how much.”

 

Éowyn moaned in pleasure as her husband drew out and began to thrust, quickly, desperately. She twitched her hips in time with his rhythm, the night air blowing across her face and cooling her cheeks as she flushed with arousal. There would be time for long, sweet lovemaking later. Tonight was about ending three months of unfilled need. She grabbed his hips, encouraging him to go faster.

Faramir could feel the pressure growing in his bollocks. He couldn’t hold off from finishing much longer and wanted to make sure Éowyn would come with him. He braced himself on one elbow, freeing his other hand to reach down to their union and once more trace his wife’s sensitive nub. She bucked beneath him, and he heard her breath start to come faster. He thrust fast, rhythmic thrusts degenerating into the rutting thrusts of a man on the brink. Éowyn’s breaths suddenly became short, sharp gasps of ecstasy, and Faramir could feel her walls contracting around his manhood, pushing him over the brink. He grunted and came, thrusting deep into her and releasing spurt after spurt of his seed into her.

The first light of dawn was breaking as Éowyn awoke, more relaxed than she had been in months. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and she could see Nessa dozing in the remains of the dinner that had gone uneaten the night before. She stirred in her husband’s arms, intending on preparing some breakfast before he woke and they had to prepare to ride back to their town and their duties. As she sat up, she saw her husband’s undershirt tented out over his nethers, and decided that breakfast could wait for a bit. Éowyn removed her chemise, cool morning breeze blowing gently over her naked skin, and lifted her husband’s shirt.

Faramir awoke to his wife gently kissing his face. At first he thought it was a dream-he had had many such in the months he had been away from his wife and they had always ended up disappointingly with a quick release with his hand and a prayer he could return home soon. As he opened his eyes, however, he realized that the hand that was caressing his rapidly stiffening pole was soft, and definitely not his own. He began to sit up, but Éowyn placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down to the blanket.

“Good morning, my lord.” She smiled down at him and released his manhood, moving her naked body to straddle his chest.

“Good morning, my lady.” He grinned and reached for her hips, guiding her up and onto his waiting prick. She sank down slowly, teasing as he released her and moved his hands up to caress her bare shoulders and breasts. She began to move on him, rolling her hips lazily, grinding against his pelvis. She reached up and loosened her braid, shaking her hair out to fall in a golden waterfall down her back and around her shoulders. She began to grind harder, and he watched as the pink flush of her arousal traveled up her ivory chest and neck to her cheeks. She put her hands on his chest and he began to thrust up into her, caressing her hard nipples as she grew closer and closer to completion. As she felt the wave of her orgasm begin to crash over her, she threw her head back and laughed, hair rippling and gleaming in the new morning sun. Sated, she collapsed onto his chest as he began thrusting into her in earnest, quickly emptying himself into her once again.

Once Éowyn had caught her breath, she sat up once again, her husband’s softening manhood still in her and the wetness of their union beginning to slide out onto his flat stomach and her thighs. She shook the hair back from her face and smiled down at him.

“Welcome home, Prince Faramir of Ithilien.”

+++++++

The winter had drawn in close and Faramir brought a flurry of snowflakes in through the door with him as Éowyn ran to greet him. He had noticed that she seemed unusually happy lately, more content to sit by the fire and sew than he had known her to be in past winters. She reached up and unclasped his cloak as soon as the door was shut, kissing his cheek before handing the cloak to the waiting attendant. The attendant usually stayed with them until they went to bed, but tonight Éowyn dismissed the girl with a nod and led Faramir into their private quarters. A meal was set out on a table by the fire.

Faramir stopped in the doorway.

“What is all this, Éowyn?” Éowyn smiled but did not respond as she continued and stood next to one of the chairs, gesturing him to sit. He cautiously approached the table and sat. She turned to the fire and spooned some stew from the small pot he now saw hanging by the flames into their bowls. He picked up his spoon, but then hesitated with the bite halfway to his mouth.

“You didn’t make this yourself, did you?”

Éowyn laughed, full and hearty.

“No, I want to spend this night with you, not with my chamberpot.”

Faramir laughed too, and they ate. He noticed that though they talked as they always did in the evenings, she had still not explained the reason for the private meal they were sharing by the time they had finished the meal. It was not until they had retired to their bedchamber and began undressing, and still she had not provided any explanation that he could no longer contain himself.

“Éowyn…” Before he could get the rest of the question out, his wife had turned to him, the firelight playing on her golden hair. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. As he touched her, he felt a small flutter beneath his fingers. His head snapped up and his eyes met hers.

“Is that…?”

Éowyn ran her hand down her belly, which was swelling, Faramir realized now, more than the usual winter thickness everyone had this time of year. Her eyes were shining.

“Yes. There will be a baby in the spring.”

He laughed with surprise and joy, gathering her into his arms and kissing her long and slow as the snow fell in the darkness outside.


End file.
